


Vesuvia University

by geniusincombatboots



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-05-18 22:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14861354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniusincombatboots/pseuds/geniusincombatboots
Summary: A medical student and a law student come to terms with their secrets and hope that those secrets won't come back to haunt them. College AU.





	1. Fortuitous Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably not be as complete a work as Forget Me Not, and will probably be more of a rambling collection of short stories. I just miss this pair so much, and I want to keep throwing them together.  
> I hope you enjoy!

Vesuvia University was one of the most competitive schools, but it did offer a fair scholarship program. It was one of those things that made the board members of the school feel better about themselves, and as though their exorbitant prices, and their part in creating crippling debt. In exchange, the students did have the benefit of a fairly good education, and a really rather good point on their reservation.

Zenia Marin loved the open, spacious campus, and she loved her cigarettes, those terrible cancerous sin sticks that were the entire reason she ever even saw him in the first place. Between her Intro to Constitutional Law and Criminal Procedure classes, she had about an hour to herself to read something was wasn’t a law book, and she spent that time every day eating her lunch under one of the trees in the quad. It had become part of her regular schedule to watch the obscenely tall red head run across the quad at break neck speed as she savored her cigarette. There was something so comically delightful about him, like the Saturday morning cartoons of her youth in the children’s home.

She had never once talked to him, but he ran with a constant terror streaking his face that made her smile for some reason. She could set her watch by him. Zenia had an overactive imagination and loved people watching, and she was prone to creating entire life stories for strangers. It was a silly thing to do, but it was part of herself. Sometimes she was right, and that was what made it all the more strange, but what could she do?

She looked at her phone to check the time, and glanced up at look at the gangly redhead running in front of her, a smile crossing her face. His long skinny jean clad legs hurried to cover more distance up the short steps to the diverging walkway. Zenia’s hand went up to cover her mouth, laughing out one loud call, just as his foot failed to clear the step, sending him and his books scattering across the pavement. She stepped forward, tossing her cigarette aside, and tried not to smile as he stood and looked down at his books before he let his head fall back, his pale eyes closed, and his shoulders bobbing in dramatic resignation of the cruelty of gravity, and every other force of the universe that had so cruelly descended upon him.

It was a moment before he opened his eyes and stooped to pick up his things, but was startled to see someone already picking his papers up for him. A stranger that he had never seen before was crouched down on the pavement, chasing loose papers. She was beautiful, and it made the air suck back into his lungs to look at her, as she turned her face up to him. Her skin was all olive tones, chunky black glasses framed her dark eyes, and her hair fell in a wavy black long bob.

He stooped slowly, smiling, “I’m Julian,” he held a hand out to her quickly, as he scooped up his books.

“Zenia,” she smiled, shaking his hand with her free one, picking up papers with the other.

“Thank you, by the by,” he said, looking away to pick up his paper on kidney disease.

“Of course,” she smiled at him quickly before looking back down, “You’re in a rush, right? Four hands are quicker than two.”

“Yeah, I have ten minutes to get from one lecture to another on the other side of the campus,” he smiled sheepishly.

“I figured as much. You’re always in such a panic,” she teased, sticking the pages of illegible notes between the pages of an anatomy textbook, “Medical?”

He smiled, “Yup, third year. You?”

“Law,” she glanced down, stacking his books up together.

“My god, if we got married, our mothers would have a collective conniption of joy,” he teased before realizing what he was saying.

She laughed, standing up and passing him his books, “Golly you move fast, don’t you? I mean, I’ve never been married, but usually dinner comes first, right?”

“I suppose you’re right,” he smiled through his blush; laughing with her, “So are you free tonight?” he stood and offered her a hand up.

She looked at him, carefully as she stood. She reached out and took a pen from his pocket, and pushed up his sleeve, “I’ll be here,” she said smiling and writing out an address, “Through the whole night. Come by if you really want to see me.”

He smiled down at her as she held his arm still, somewhat taken by her direct forwardness, “What time would be agreeable to you?”

“Surprise me,” she grinned, “Now get to class, or I’m certain your mother will be quite upset, and I would hate to upset her.”

He smiled winningly at her, and hurried off again, the wind catching his hair and Zenia wondering what in the world had just happened. It seemed like something out of a piece of harlequin romance prose, gobbled up in paperback form. She went back over to the bench that was still claimed as her own by her bag and books. She settled back and opened her philosophy paperback and lit another cigarette, wondering whether or not he would actually show up. Her guess was no, as in her experience medical students were far too busy for anything beyond their own work. It should be a grace, as anyone that holds life in their hands should know their business.

Her phone buzzed in her bag, drawing her attention. She looked at it, and noted the name and information relayed to her. Rodrigo needed her to keep up her studies. He was so persistently helpful that way. It made her smile.

She wondered if the med student would show up, but more than that, she wondered if he would bother to look up the address beforehand. If he did, he wouldn’t be likely to show up at all. He was too squeaky clean for that part of town.

0x0x0

That evening, Julian went through his internship with the Count’s head doctor, Quaestor Valdemar, an ordeal, the weight of which was beginning to bear down on his shoulders rather aggressively. He had begun working there after the Expansion War and it was by the grace of the palace that he was able to afford school at all.

Julian flopped back on his bed in his relatively comfortable little cloister dorm room in the medical study hall, staring up at the canopy over his head. It was such a beautifully gilded cage, but he tried not to dwell on it as he reveled through the day’s events. He hadn’t quite gotten a girl’s number, but he had gotten a delightful Easter egg hunt that might pay off in a number, or else some nice banter.

It was something, and he could tell his mother to stop setting him up with nice well meaning people from temple. If he had to hear about her friend Ruta’s son who had just graduated from architecture school and was just so nice and wouldn’t you know it single; he would lose his mind.

He glanced at his forearm savoring the digits there on; the carefully preserved address written in very nice handwriting was emblazoned with hope. He looked over his head out through the window and smiled as he thought about Zenia. He knew nothing about her, but she was so irresistibly cute, and wanted him to come and meet her, and my god, how had he gotten so lucky? He curled over in a sort of bizarre bliss that was reserved only for protagonists of chick flicks.

0x0x0

Zenia was working her night job, bartending at The Den, the seedy little spot in Dockside, in spite of the fact that while she was supposed to be working closer to her future position of lawyer, there was barely time to sleep. It was one of the multiple quandaries that she was constantly facing.

She poured shitty draft beers, and smiled, and was polite in the ornery way that was expected of a dive bar. She liked her job, she really did, and she was still paying her small placed dues, but she had a test based on the details of case studies in the morning. On slow nights, she could read over her notes and texts, but when they were busy, that meant no sleep, and more coffee than she probably ought to be drinking.

The conundrums of this were plaguing Zenia as she poured another bourbon rocks for a nameless face that she should know by now when she was that red head come through the door and take a place at the bar with only the simple hesitation of his hands being pushed very tightly into his pockets.

“So when you said you would be here all night…” Julian smiled, “You meant you were working?”

He looked her over, smiling as if nothing about this struck him as odd. Her dark hair was pulled half up at the back, and she looked so fresh faced, in her oversized black shirt.

He never would have thought she would work here, but it did make sense as he thought about it, but she was so small, and here she was working in a bar with a pool table, and dingy lights, and a prominent sign telling people that they were cash only.

“Gotta pay tuition somehow, right?” Zenia smiled, leaning her arms against the bar, “So what can I get you?”

“What do you have that’s cheap?”

“Everything,” Zenia laughed, waving her hand around her, “Hence the dive bar.”

“Fair enough,” Julian smiled, “Beer and a shot of bourbon?”

“That I can do,” she smiled, pouring him a draft, “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“It’s not every day you get positively rescued,” he retorted, “Honestly if not for you I would have had to just curl up on that sidewalk and die.”

“Well, if this isn’t too creepy, if I didn’t know to look for you, I wouldn’t have been able to save you.”

“Are you stalking me?”

“Only gently,” Zenia smiled and put the drinks down in front of him, “I sit on that bench every day, and you go running by every Monday Wednesday and Friday, like clock work.”

“And you had nothing to do beside look for handsome pending panic attacks?”

“Of course not,” Zenia smiled at his raised brow, refilling a pint, “Let’s say I keep an eye out for upcoming talents.”

“And so we shall say, what makes you think I’m worthy of such notice?”

She tilted her head, smirking a little before heading away to the other end of the bar to refill the drinks of the customers. Her eyes scanned the room over, carefully as she poured drinks, and smiled at the joke a large rough looking man had made. There was something about her laugh that lit Julian a little. He flipped open his textbook from his messenger bag, to review his notes on blood bourn illnesses, trying to focus on his work.

Zenia smiled over at him, noting the attempt at studiousness, and the fidget of his fingers over the chilled beer glass. There was something nice about the shape of his fingers, she thought a moment before her eyes slid to the door as it opened, a familiarly barred face appearing in her line of vision.

Her entire being stiffened suddenly, her fingertips finding the button under the bar, and hitting it a few times. Her hand reached further under the bar and wrapped around the aluminum bat there, “Hey, no, no.” She pointed at the man, “You know you’re not allowed in here.”

Julian’s head turned curiously to look at the man whose presence was such an offense. Zenia walked around to the end of the counter, keeping the bat hidden behind the bar, her other hand pressed flat against the top of the bar.

“I jus wanna drink,” the man slurred leaning over the bar, almost leering at her through a smile. There was blood dripping down the side of his face, “Jus one, dear, can’t you just do that?”

“No,” Zenia said, her shoulders squared at him.

A door opened in the wall over at the end of the bar and a pair of large men walked quickly out and pressed the offending man out of the bar with little more than a jostle. Zenia watched with a careful eye as he was tossed out on the pavement, and Aldus the smaller of the two men, stood there at the door, leaning in the way, eying him down. Julian stared at the back of Aldus; intrigued by the ongoing drama that was occurring completely on the side of the bleeding man that kept going up to Aldus and the latter pushing him back.

“Who’s that?” Julian asked, eying the situation that might continue outside as the other large wall of a man walked past the bar, with a nod and a smile to Zenia.

“Who?” Zenia asked, refilling his beer, “the nice big fellow in the door there is my foster brother Aldus.”

“You know that’s not who I mean at all,” Julian tilted his head at her.

“Oh, the other,” she set the glass down, “Thomas has a bit of a problem with drinking, and starting unnecessary fights.”

“And that is frowned upon?”

“Well beating the bejeebus out of his old lady doesn’t help,” Zenia admitted, “there are quite a few other issues.”

“He looks like he’s rather in a bad way,” Julian said, starting slowly to get up.

“I would advise against that.”

“As a law student?”

“And more,” Zenia said, “Please sit down, and don’t get yourself mixed up in that.”

“Why?”

“A nice boy like you doesn’t want any part of that,” she said, earnestly.

“What makes you think I’m a nice boy?” Julian was almost offended by her words.

“Easy there now,” Zenia put a hand up, and poured a refill for another patron, “I’m not trying to start a fight. I’m just trying to save you on the headache that’ll turn into for you.”

Julian hesitated for a moment, looking around the bar, suddenly aware of something off about the place. It was almost purposefully seedy, and there seemed to be entirely too many doors in the place, “What is this place?”

“A bar.”

“Yes, but what kind of bar?”

Zenia smirked, her eyes turning back to the door as Aldus came back in through the door. She smirked at him a moment, pouring a double of bourbon rocks and set it down in front of her brother.

Even without the explanation of his being her brother by way of foster, Julian would have put it together. Aldus was a tall, well built man, with dark mahogany skin. His hair was worn in long carefully maintained locks, tied back. He took a long drink of the offered bourbon, and smiled at Zenia, “Thank you my dear girl.”

“No, thank you, dear boy,” Zenia smiled, “If you hadn’t gotten that fellow out of here, I would have had to bash him and I would have to clean up my nice clean bar.”

Julian watched on in mild horror as the pair of them laughed. He was more horrified that he found this as amusing as they did. He found himself smiling at their camaraderie as they jibed back and forth up until Aldus turned to him, “So who are you?”

“Julian Devorak,” Julian offered his hand, which Aldus accepted.

“Aldus Leon,” he was smiling wide at him, nodding at the book, “You’re a medical student, then?”

“Yes, yes.”

“And how did you find our charming little home?”

“Ah, Miss Zenia invited me out,” Julian said.

“Miss Zenia? I like that!” Aldus laughed, “So how do you know my sister?”

“Aldus,” Zenia said warningly.

“What? I’m just trying to talk to your friend!”

“This is why I don’t bring people home!” she teased, going to the other end of the bar.

Aldus waved a dismissive hand at her before taking a cigarette from the pack in his pocket, and lit it, “So you were telling me about meeting me little sister.”

“I dropped my books, and she helped me pick them up,” Julian smiled.

“Sounds right. Have you ever been in a fight before?”

“Yes, actually,” Julian watched at Zenia started back over to them, “I was actually a combat medic for a while before I got my internship, and started medical school.”

“How did that work?” Zenia asked.

“I had a little bit of training before hand, but I’m getting my actual training and I’m going to get my medical license,” he said, trying to cut the conversation short.

Zenia blessedly caught on and poured another drink for Aldus, and asked, “Did you know there’s a legal precedent for a pig to sue for paternity rights?”

“You’re full of shit,” Aldus laughed.


	2. The Walkers Home

Zenia finished closing out the bar, and locked the door behind her, before turning to Julian, a smile lighting her face as she leaned back against the façade, “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“Not personally, but you shouldn’t,” Julian shrugged his wide shoulders.

She had already taken a cigarette from the faux silver case in her purse, lifting the thin roll up to her lips, “That’s what they say,” she lit the cigarette, and the flash from her lighter flared in tandem in the glass of her spectacles, obscuring her eyes for a moment of searing light. Julian wondered absently about whether or not it that reflection was one of her soul as well.

He didn’t know what to say in that moment, there was something so cliché about it. It was the quintessence of the cool, unaffected girl, leaning against a wall in the middle of the night, smoking a cigarette, down to her leather jacket. He enjoyed looking at this tableau she presented, even as he was struck by the feeling she was putting on a mask. It was something only one would notice if they had themselves done before, or had lived with those that did.

“So which way is it for you?”

“Pardon?” he asked.

“Which way are you going? To get home?” she smiled

“Oh, that way,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the palace, “I was thinking I would walk you home.”

She tilted her head a little, “You may walk me home, but you will not come up.”

“No of course not. I am a gentleman,” he bowed his head, almost teasingly.

She took his arm as the wry smile wormed across her lips, and walked with him along the pavement, deeper into the slum, “I have to take your word for it. I know little about you at all.”

“I know. You were working all night. Though I must admit that I feel rather as if I was drawn out under false pretenses.”

“Well you wanted to see me again, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but that’s different,” Julian wasn’t sure it was right one-way or the other. If she knew anything about him, she wouldn’t even be walking with him at all, or let him know where she lived.

“You thought you were getting a date?” she asked, teasingly.

“Well, yes,” he laughed, awkwardly.

“I’m sorry,” she was laughing with him, “I shouldn’t laugh, but I didn’t think you would show up anyway. I thought you would look up the address and run for the hills.”

“It didn’t even occur to me.”

“Really?”

“I didn’t even know where I was going, and I did wander about for quite a while, hoping that if I were to be mugged, that at least I might get a good story out of it.”

“The main thing is to look like you belong,” Zenia admitted, “Walk with confidence, and with an eye to your surroundings.”

“Is that how it’s done? I never would have guessed.”

She took another drag to hide her smile, a habit of hiding her own discomfort hidden in the smile, “Smart ass.”

“Rather a smart one than a dumb one,” he cocked a brow at her, “Though I would think a young lady walking through this part of town every night alone might know better than I.”

She shrugged, “It’s my home. Honestly I’ve never known anywhere else.”

Julian watched her every movement, and had the bizarre feeling of having done all of this before.

“It might help if you didn’t look like you should be stuffed in a locker.”

“I take umbrage at that statement,” he replied, “First off, I doubt I could fit in a locker.”

She looked up at him trying not to laugh, “Fair enough. What else?”

“I thought I dressed rather well…” he admitted.

“For a church social maybe,” she tilted her head back further to look at him, “You’re absolutely dressed as if you were going to call the palace guards in.”

“How do you mean?”

“You look too much like a typified college student from a sitcom, or something.”

“Well that is because I’m trying to blend in.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Well not all of us can pull off fishnets and shorts,” Julian said, glancing down appreciatively before he realized that he was doing it at all. A blush slid over his cheeks and up his ears. He hadn’t even confirmed in any real way that she had any interest in him at all, and maybe she didn’t. He had this idea in the back of his mind that he was the butt of some joke. Maybe she thought it was funny to make him run all the way over to the slums to a dive bar where he would squirm and feel uncomfortable and she would laugh with her friends when he had finally run. But he hadn’t run, and now he was walking down the street with a girl that probably thought he was a fool.

“Not with that attitude,” she gave his arm a pinch, “And don’t jab your jaws like that. These are my lucky tights.”

“What makes them lucky?”

“I won my first duel while wearing them.”

“Really? Did you meet with your second on the heath? Were your swords drawn in the dewy morning and all?”

“Yes, of course,” Zenia said, trying to hold in a laugh that was mangled in her throat, cutting her words awkwardly into bits.

“Then I am sorry to have missed such an engagement,” his footfalls stopped as hers did in front of a narrow doorway beside a store.

“I’ll alert you next time there is call for it,” she promised.

“But how would you get word to me?”

“I suppose I would need some way to contact you.”

He balked a moment, hesitating.

“Perhaps a phone number?”

“Oh! Of course! Right!” he rummaged through his knapsack for a piece of paper and a pen. He quickly scrawled out the number, trying his best to make it easy to read before handing it to her.

“So that joke about Doctors’ handwriting is true. Is there a class for is?” she teased.

“Of course!” he said, blushing a little, and trying to joke along.

“Well,” she glanced at the doorway, flicking away her cigarette butt, “This is me.”

He wasn’t sure if he could kiss her goodnight. She had inferred that this wasn’t a date, but had asked for his number. He opted to play it safe and gently took her empty hand and bowed gallantly over it, “I will wish you a good night then,” he said, straightening up.

Zenia smiled at him, charmed as she took her keys from her pocket and went into the stairway behind the door, “goodnight,” she said closing the door behind her.

Julian rested his fingertips against the door before heading on down the street toward the palace, and his dormitory.


End file.
